Dilemmas, forums and suiting myself

Well, the concerned-about-running theme continues... This time, it's my 14yo daughter -- we'll call her "Hank" -- campaigning to run alone. Some facts to consider:

• She's a cross-country runner and too fast for me to run with her.
• She can take along our German shepherd mix, Elvis, who weighs about 80 pounds and gets pissed if Hank's father even tries to wrestle with her.
• She can stay in town, such as it is, and avoid remote country roads like the one that featured in my last post.
• This kid is 5' 7" and just earned her brown belt.

The dilemma, simply stated, is that I want my girls to have confidence and freedom, but I also want them to live to a ripe old age with a minimum of violence and trauma. What to do? I even posted my question about this on a Runner's World forum and got all kinds of answers.

In the end, I said OK with a few ground rules:

• The dog always goes along.
• The iPod always stay home (so she can hear what is happening around her).
• She carries her cell phone at all times.
• She sticks to a pre-planned route, tells me when she leaves, and checks in as soon as she returns.

Of course, we've had the obligatory lectures (insert teenage eye roll) about following your gut instinct, avoiding any contact with others, head home or go to a neighbor's house if you think there's trouble, etc etc.

Hank has gone on two runs this week and is positively glowing with her ever-expanding independence. Of course, I'm hyperventilating and watching the clock while she's out, but she only goes a few miles and she's fast, so I don't have long to wait. (Another deet - I'm home when she runs, not far away at an office.)

Some folks think I'm nuts and some think it is great. We'll just do what works for us, I suppose...

Lost

Sunday's long run was 8 miles. I ran my favorite loop, which is only my favorite when I'm not actually running it -- some challenging hills on this route. I went alone, since my usual running pal C is having some leg pain and stayed home.

No big deal, I usually run alone anyway. But the story of Chelsea King was lurking in the back of my mind. On Sunday, she was still missing, though everyone was expecting the worst.

What I think of as the "back side" of my 8 mile loop is a country road that actually becomes gravel for a mile or so before heading back to pavement and civilization. Rather remote. As I ran around a curve on this road, I spotted two men just standing on the side of the road. In the middle of nowhere, with no car in sight, just standing there.

At this point, on this day, with the latest headlines screaming in the back of my head, I decided these guys looked like trouble. In hindsight, they just looked like two regular guys, but this could have been a yummy duo of Hugh Jackman and Clive Owen and I would still have thought they were up to no good.

What to do? Turn around, which surely was an invitation to chase (by now my imagination has hit hyperspeed), and I had at least two miles to a house in that direction. Or, keep going and tough it out, with a subdivision maybe 1.5 miles that way.

I kept going, thinking this is stupid in so many ways. Stupid that I've lost that wonderful sense of quiet freedom that comes on long, solitary runs. Stupid that I'm fearful of two guys who are probably no danger to anyone. And stupid that I'm out here all by myself inviting the same kind of trouble that found poor Chelsea.

As I approached the two guys, who by that time were just standing there watching my approach, I called my husband. (I always carry my phone since the time, three years ago, when one of my kids was seriously injured at school and they couldn't reach me -- I was out running.) No, not to tell him I was worried, because he would have charged to the rescue and I wasn't so sure I actually needed rescuing. Yet. I called him so these fellas would hear me on the phone, checking in with someone and giving my location.

The guys just watched me pass, and I saw that they had bikes. One man wore one of those big duster coats, all in black, which just makes me think of Columbine. Once I was a good ways past them, they hopped on the bikes and actually passed me - no words exchanged, not even a direct glance. They probably knew that I had already labeled them as perverted psychopaths on a killing spree and kept away.

I'd like to add that I'm a brown belt (red decided) in martial arts. I've won sparring tournaments, and I'm a tough chick anyway. My husband can testify, since he tried grabbing me from behind early one morning a few weeks ago and I busted him in the nose before realizing what was up. But let's be realistic: the potential harm for one woman vs. two men is astronomical, no matter how many classes you've taken or how tough you think you are. It's just the reality of the world we live in.

Now I'm just so sad. Sad for Chelsea and what her final moments must have been like. And my heart is breaking for her parents. No mom or dad should ever have to outlive their children, and to lose that bright, shiny child in such a terrible way... My heart just breaks.

But I'm also sad for the loss that women feel around the world, that knowledge that yet again it is harder for us to be independent, safe and, dammit, ALONE without worrying for our very lives.

Most Wonderful Time of the Year

Easter is coming, and the grocery store and pharmacy are packed with my very favorite thing:

Reese's Peanut Butter Eggs. I love them. I long for them. And, over the last few days, DH has been surprising me with them: on my nightstand, on the edge of the tub, on my desk... Yum!

Today I ransacked the kitchen until I "accidentally" stumbled across his stash of Eggs. Haven't touched them yet, though I will confess to smooshing my nose to the bag and inhaling deeply.

Will I cave in and eat them all at once? Or will I wait for Hubs' next offering? Only time will tell...

So... Sleepy...

The miles are adding on steadily, with my 8-mile long run yesterday happening as if I always run that far at one time, outdoors, on purpose. But, with my weekly hours adding up, so is my burning desire for... bedtime.

I am just so tired! This is probably just because I'm a Certain Age and I've upped my miles. But boy do I want to take a nap. And go to bed early. And nap. Yesterday, I slept late (for me, anyway), finally got my gear together and ran, and went to Old Navy and bought a skirt. That was it. All day.

Another issue is my blossoming love affair with my bathtub. We bought this house nearly 2 years ago, and I heard angels singing when I first saw the gigantic jacuzzi-type tub in the master bathroom. I can soak until I shrivel up like a giant flabby albino raisin. And when my legs are sore, it just feels so good! At least I'm squeaky clean, which is more than I can say for my running shoes these days.

So, if anyone needs me, I'll be in bed, in the tub, or somewhere betwixt the two!

Make Mine a Double

Saturday was a big day for me: the Polar Bear run. This is actually two runs, 3mi and 5mi, back-to-back. Runners can participate in either race, or become a "doubler" and run both. My running buddy C and I decided way back in December to double down on this one, with the rationale that we should be able to run 8 miles by now in our half marathon training.

The Countdown

The week leading up to the Polar Bear, I had a horrible cold. Snot everywhere, and coughing so hard I either wet my pants or, on one memorable occasion, barfed. Big fun. On top of my usual race stress -- which mak

es no sense since I am so slow, it's not like I'm going to win something for crying out loud -- I was worried about being able to run at all. Bleh.

One Day Left!

Friday finally rolled around. C and I went to packet pickup and the "mini expo," which was three retirees with a pile of t-shirts and a rack of XS clearance crap from a local running store. Considerably less goo coming out of my snot locker, so things were looking up.

Then comes the new stress in the form of an email from the race director:

DOUBLERS - PLEASE READ DO NOT: Wear or have on your person, your 5-Mile number while you are participating in the 3-Mile. IT'S IMPORTANT THAT THE NUMBERS NOT BE WORN AT THE SAME TIME BECAUSE OF THE ACTIVE TIMING CHIP ON THE BACK.Wear the 3-Mile number in the 3-Mile and the 5-Mile number in the 5-Mile. Each number has its own race designation.After you finish the 3-Mile, remove your number and put it in the recycle container near the finish line. Pin on your 5-Mile number and be at the 5-Mile start line at 9:15am (this is the start time).3-MILERS: You must be at the start line of the 5-Mile by 9:15 AM! THANK YOU AND HAVE A GREAT EVENT!

Crap! C and I are going by ourselves, and we are NOT going to have a lot of time between the 3mi race and the 5mi race. I spent Friday evening obsessing over the course map and city maps of Indy, trying to find a place to park close enough to the 3mi finish that we can dash

over and switch bibs.

Race Day

On the way to pick up C, I nearly wrecked my car in the new snow. But we got there on time, and parked a block from the 3mi finish. And we're off!

For the three miles, I ran pretty well but freaked out inside my own head the entire way. What if I don't make the start of the 5mi? I'm sure C is light years ahead of me, she'll be so disappointed if I don't make it. Do I sprint (ha!) past the finish and just run all the way to my car? Then I come around the last turn and there is C, just ahead of me. We finished almost exactly together, which is THRILLING to me because for our last few races she has beat me by min

utes. Minutes!

The bib switch went smoothly, with plenty of time left over to stretch a little and chat as we lined up for the 5mi. We decided to follow C's intervals -- run 4 mins, walk 1 min -- for this part. And we stuck together, which is unusual for us. The first three miles flew by, and I was shocked to see the marker for mile 4. That last mile was tough, with my snot production team suddenly working overtime and my heart beating so fast. C is a great motivator and we finished strong -- 8 miles total, baby!

Here we are, victorious after the race with the shabbiest polar bear ever - and that's me, on the left, in all my sweaty glory:

The Results

We finished .02 seco

nds apart. Yep, C is still, technically, faster than me but in December she was two full minutes (plus) faster. Nice job catching up

, eh? I finished 12th in my age group for the 3mi, and let's just say I wasn't last for the 5mi. I felt GREAT after the race. C and I agree that we could have gone 5 more miles - half marathon distance - today. I am Queen of the Universe! Or, co-queen, anyway.

The Reality

I came into the post-race area and asked another runner where the water was. She pointed me in the right direction and said, "They should still have some left. It's only stragglers coming in now."

Stragglers. Huh. Guess that's me.

At least she wasn't dressed like a Christmas tree...

Randomness

Okay, OKAY, I haven't posted in a while. Back-to-back business trips (which always, always suck) and then a week-long vacay with the fam for our Annual Disney Extravaganza have left me tired, sick, and hopelessly uninspired. So enjoy some random stuff while I pull myself back together:

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There is a roller coaster at Sea World called the Kraken. This struck all of us as uproariously funny and we used it all the time in ways that often made no sense:

"Holy Kraken!"

"That guy's Kraken is showing!"

"Hold on to your Kraken!"

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Room service at Disney World makes homemade chicken broth stuff for sick guests. This stuff saved my kid's life and my sanity on Disney Barf-o-Rama Day.

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On the plane, I sat next to a relief worker returning from Haiti. Now I have an awful cold and I blame him and his third-world cooties. Does that make me a bad person?

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My husband snores SO LOUDLY. I just cannot take it any more. I started sleeping with earplugs about 4 months ago because it hurts his feelings when I move to the guest room. But dear God, now I can hear him through the plugs. It is so loud that last night I still had to wear earplugs IN THE GUEST ROOM. I need a decibel-o-meter or whatever to measure the amazing sounds coming out of this man.

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I don't care how sophisticated you think you are, the Hoop-Dee-Doo Review show at Disney is one of the funniest things you will ever see. Go. Eat. Laugh.

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The Runners World Smart Coach plan is a wonderful thing! Sunday's long run was 8 miles, with no ill effects on Monday. I could hardly believe it.

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Every single day, my mother and my husband tattle to me about each other. One day soon they'll notice that I. Do. Not. Care.

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A running buddy like the fabulous C. makes the miles go by very quickly!

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The Polar Bear run (two races: 3 miles and 5 miles, and I signed up for BOTH) is on Saturday. Today is Wednesday and I have a bad cold. Worry, worry, worry...

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I have the greatest dog ever: Sarge, that handsome devil in the photo above.

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This week's epiphany: my kids are 10 and 14, wonderful gals with personalities, likes, dislikes and lives all their own. How did they get so big s0 fast?

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I secretly resent the fact that my 14yo is a couple of inches taller than her mother.

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I'm off to curl up with some NyQuil and a trashy novel. Fingers crossed that I'll make it to the Polar Bear run on Saturday!

Travel, Chafing, and Leanne

Just got back from a three-day business trip and am taking the clan to Disney tomorrow. TOMORROW. Gawd.

Yes, I got my miles in while on the road. No, I did not pack my running bra because I'm a dummy. Just like maxipads with wings, underwire bras result in EPIC CHAFING on a run of any significance. Could I please go a week without some part of my body rubbing off? Or could the Body Glide people please hose me down?

So, I'm off to dump out everyone's dresser drawers and throw a tantrum while packing to go to The Happiest Place on Earth. Instead of listening to me rant, check out Leanne Morgan -- my current favorite funny gal.

And YES, it would be better if I just embedded one of her videos but I've been trying for 15 minutes and did I mention I'm leaving town again in 12 hours? Stop judging!